#eli

That we find a crystal or a poppy beautiful means that we are less alone, that we are more deeply inserted into existence than the course of a single life would lead us to believe. ↗

— John Berger

#beautiful #believe #course #crystal #deeply

Break my heart for what breaks yours. Everything I am for you kingdom's cause, as I walk from nothing to eternity. ↗

— Kiera Cass

#the-elite #twitter #young-adult #twitter

I start reading every Elizabeth Wurtzel essay with optimism, like maybe finally she put her talent to writing about something than herself, and by the end of paragraph three that optimism has fled. So maybe you know Wurtzel has written an essay for New York Magazine? Probably you know, because for whatever reason, Wurtzel provokes a deep need in people to talk about how much they hate Wurtzel. So the comments are hundreds deep, Twitter is ablaze, and here I am, writing this blog post. And actually, she reminds me of Mary MacLane. She was a 19-year-old girl who wrote a memoir called I Await the Devil’s Coming in 1901 and it was an instant success. I wrote the introduction to the upcoming reissue, and there I talk about what a deeply interesting book it was. Not only “for its time,” but also it’s just kind of visceral and nasty and snarling, yet elegantly written. I kept thinking about MacLane, after the introduction got handed in and things went off to press. But this time, it wasn’t her writing that interested me, it was the way she never wrote anything very interesting ever again. She got stunted, somehow, winning all of that acclaim for being a young, sour thing. And I wondered if it was the fame that stunted her, because she spent the rest of her career spitting out copies of the memoir that made her famous. And it worked, until it didn’t. ↗

— Jenna Crispin

#mary-maclane #twitter

...no one can do a thing about feelings, they exist and there's no way to censor them. We can reproach ourselves for some action, for a remark, but not for a feeling, quite simply because we have no control at all over it. ↗

— Milan Kundera

#identity

How did I get where I am.” If your answer is anything but dumb luck then you are sadly deluding yourself. ↗

— Steve Merrick

#sci-fi #stevesevilempire #sci-fi

I believe that everybody comes from pain and a certain amount of dysfunction. ↗

— Mariel Hemingway

#believe #certain #comes #dysfunction #everybody

We were like psychedelic folk combined with Sonic Youth's noise. ↗

— Daisy Berkowitz

#folk #like #noise #psychedelic #sonic

And loneliness. I should say something of loneliness. The panic, the sweeping hysteria that comes not when you are without others, but when you are without yourself, adrift. I should describe the filthy province of mind, the blighted district inside, the place so crowded you cannot raise the lids of your eyes. Your shoulders are drawn and your head has fallen and your chest is bruised by the constant assault of your heart. (p. 37) ↗

— Hilary Thayer Hamann

#loneliness #hilarious

The pleasures of being a novelist are many.  But the greatest by far is the manner in which I live through my characters; experiencing every detail of their story as it unfolds gradually and personally within my own creative psyche.  I'm like a cat with untold lives, because each new book is my rebirth. ↗

— Richelle E. Goodrich

#enjoyment #novelist #pleasure #richelle #richelle-goodrich

Have thine own way, Lord! Have thine own way! Thou art the Potter and I am the clay. ↗

— Chaim Potok

#inspirational #religious #art